Woooooo… ooo… ooo… o… o…
The emergency siren wailed across the entire research facility.
Beep… Beep… Beep…
"Emergency announcement. Code Red. A test subject has breached containment… Repeat, a test subject has breached containment. All security units, mobilize and intercept immediately."
"Warning… the subject's potential index is highly abnormal. Repeat, threat level is at maximum. Lethal containment measures are authorized. Proceed with extreme caution."
In the dead of night, the sterile white lights were drowned out by flashing red strobes that washed over the metal walls. The blaring sirens pierced through the air, tearing at the senses, an unmistakable sign that something in this once-perfect system had gone horribly wrong. Within the narrow corridors of the facility, chaos erupted. Figures in lab coats fled in blind panic, scattering like rats trapped inside a burning cage.
As the assault unit advanced in full armor, weapons locked and ready, they began sealing off the area. The clash of metal and desperate screams were swallowed by gunfire and bone-rattling explosions. Orange flames crawled along severed wires, while thick smoke choked the air with the stench of burning chemicals and gunpowder. The atmosphere reeked of creeping devastation.
"Pin down the target's location! Do not let their genetic data slip out!"
The squad leader's roar thundered through the metal corridor, muffled behind a reinforced mask.
Click!
"Lethal force authorized. Live rounds are in effect. If containment fails, terminate on sight!"
The order had barely left his mouth before a storm of bullets tore through the air.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Muzzle flashes ripped through the darkness as rounds slammed into steel walls.
Clang! Clang! Bang!
Sparks burst and scattered in every direction, illuminating a flickering shadow that moved like a hunted demon within the smoke.
BOOOOM!!
The sheer blast pressure twisted the titanium security door and ripped it clean off its hinges. The chaos continued to spread, devouring every inch of the facility.
On the far side of the abandoned research wing, silence hung heavy, broken only by the slow drip of liquid. A figure slumped against the freezing steel wall, breath coming out in faint, uneven puffs.
"Why… why did you side with them…"
The trembling voice came from a man in a tattered patient uniform. One side of his face was drenched in thick, dark blood seeping from a grievous wound. His eyes were filled with confusion, searching for an answer he couldn't grasp.
Opposite him, another figure in the same experimental attire stood over the fallen body. Those eyes were empty, devoid of mercy, like cold, unfeeling sensors.
"It's nothing complicated…"
The voice was flat, eerily calm.
"I wasn't bought with scraps like you. I chose to walk into this hell on my own, from the very beginning."
When the emotionless words faded, everything fell silent… swallowed whole by the darkness closing in.
.....
The year is 2247.
The world as we once knew it has long since fallen apart, leaving behind a rotting shell of a ruined atmosphere. Under the terms of the Unified Nations Accord, what remained of humanity was herded into massive gilded cages known as the 7 Biotope Enclaves. Synthetic glass domes sealed them off from the outside world, where toxic storms raged endlessly, dividing territory along the latitudes and longitudes of continents that no longer existed.
"Welcome to Biotope Residential Zone 5… Please ensure your taxes are paid in full and on time to sustain your vital functions."
Inside these domes lay a fabricated paradise. Every molecule of air was filtered. Infrastructure flowed with algorithmic precision. But it all came at a cost.
The cost of living was suffocating, grinding people down until they became nothing more than cogs in a manufactured ecosystem. Vertical farms and synthetic livestock filled the space, everything rationed and controlled under the authority of a central government.
Massive waste conduits spewed filth into the outside world, the Outlands. A graveyard of hope. The discarded and forgotten clung to life beneath corrosive smog that ate away at their lungs, scavenging through mountains of waste born from the domes' prosperity.
The once-promising spacefaring programs, humanity's last great hope, were abandoned and left to drift as orbital junk. Colossal steel structures floated aimlessly, stripped of purpose. When the energy crisis closed in, humanity was forced to choose.
We did not choose to reach for the stars.
We chose amputation over extinction.
We severed the outside world. We turned our backs on the distant cosmos. And we locked ourselves inside fragile domes, waiting for the end to arrive slowly, inevitably.
"Emergency alert. Security offenders have escaped!"
The synthetic voice of the central system boomed across the towering artificial skyline.
"A terrorist group has stolen classified research data, the atmospheric restoration blueprint for the Outlands. I repeat, top-secret data has been compromised!"
"Current status: 11 targets terminated. 19 remain at large… These individuals pose a direct threat to the artificial ecosystem. Anyone providing shelter or information will be reported immediately. Bounty rewards will be transferred directly to your credit account."
Crack!
A simulated thunderclap split the sky, followed by the steady hiss of programmed rain designed to maintain humidity.
Amid the falling droplets and neon lights reflecting off the drenched streets, a lone man in a raincoat stood motionless among the crowd. Half his face was hidden beneath the shadow of his hood. He looked like any other working-class citizen hurrying home.
And yet, in the chaos… he could not escape Edward's gaze.
A nineteen-year-old boy stared at the screen, his heart pounding. Back home, his family had spent their entire life savings to send him into this dome. The bounty was more than money, it was a one-way ticket to keep them from starving out there.
Edward tightened his coat, trying to blend into the crowd. Step by step, he tailed the figure in silence. From the brightly lit main street, he slipped into a narrow alley where the lights flickered relentlessly. Greed and hope drove him deeper into the dome's shadows, unaware that what he was chasing… might be far more than an ordinary criminal.
Thunk.
A cold, hard object pressed against the back of his neck.
Edward froze. His body locked in place, swallowed by the darkness of the alley.
"Why are you following me?"
The hoarse, icy voice slipped out from beneath the man's hood.
"You're one of the escapees… aren't you?"
Edward forced the words out, his heart pounding so hard it felt ready to burst.
"If I said no, would you believe me? You already buy into the fake weather forecasts in this dome."
The other man shot back, his tone laced with quiet contempt.
"If you're not a criminal, then why are you running?"
"I'm not a criminal. But yes… I am running."
The hooded man let the words hang in the air.
"And for your own sake, you should stop following me. The bounty on my head isn't worth your life."
Edward shifted the hand in his pocket, then spun around toward the voice without hesitation.
There was nothing. No trace of the man.
Only an old plastic pipe rolled along the ground, tapping lightly against the curb.
He stood there for a moment, steadying himself, then pulled out his phone and reported that he had located a suspicious individual.
Not long after, four officers in composite armor rushed to the scene. High-intensity flashlights swept across the damp alley walls.
"You reported a suspect in this area, correct?"
One of the officers spoke, his tone calm but edged with authority.
"Yes… I mean, I saw him standing at the intersection acting suspicious, so I followed him in here."
Edward replied, shoulders slightly hunched under the artificial rain.
"Can you describe him?"
the officer asked, pulling out a data recorder.
"Not really. I never saw his face. I just know he was a man, wearing a full raincoat… probably around six foot two."
"Did he assault you or show any intent to harm you?"
"No… not really. He used that plastic pipe over there and pressed it against the back of my head. I think he wanted me to believe it was a gun, but he didn't actually do anything."
Edward pointed toward the pipe lying on the ground.
"Oh… and he said he wasn't a criminal. Just… that he was running."
"Hmm… if he's not a criminal, then why would he run?"
The officer muttered, almost to himself.
"Exactly. That's what I told him. But he said there's a bounty on him, and warned me not to follow."
"Hmm. Fair enough. But he's right about one thing… Next time you run into something like this, report it immediately. That's the safer call."
The officer replied, giving Edward a light pat on the shoulder, a quiet warning to think twice next time.
After the brief questioning wrapped up, Edward dragged his exhausted body back to the residential sector, a fifty-story high-rise packed to the brim with people. He lived on the seventeenth floor, in the smallest and cheapest unit his savings could afford.
Click…
As he pushed the door open, the cramped space came into view. A narrow bed, a table, a chair, a tiny wardrobe, and a compact bathroom tucked into the corner. Comfort wasn't part of the design. Neither was space. This place existed for one purpose only, to give people somewhere to sleep and handle the bare essentials before heading back out to work the next day.
He walked over and dropped onto the worn-out spring mattress without hesitation.
"Haaah… Guess I'll head out tomorrow and scavenge the Outlands for scrap to sell."
He muttered under his breath, drained, before forcing himself up to wash off the grime and the stale scent of artificial rain clinging to his skin.
.....
The next morning, at the research facility still undergoing urgent repairs, the front plaza had been transformed into a makeshift stage for a major announcement. A dense crowd of media gathered, hungry for any scrap of information.
Thud… Thud…
Heavy footsteps carried up to the podium. A middle-aged man in a pristine lab coat swept his gaze across the crowd.
"Good morning, everyone. I am Dr. Nicolas Charrison, Director of the Biotope 5 Research Center."
His deep voice resonated through the microphone, echoing across the plaza.
"First, I would like to thank all members of the press for being here today. It is with regret that I must inform you that our facility is currently undergoing repairs following recent damages. While the delay will be temporary, it has inevitably slowed progress on the Outlands atmospheric restoration project. Authorities are actively pursuing those responsible and are doing everything in their power to recover the stolen data as quickly as possible."
Dr. Nicolas paused briefly, then allowed a faint smile to form.
"But the good news is… alongside this incident, we have successfully discovered a new strain of humanity born from our experiments. They possess abilities far beyond those of ordinary humans. Ladies and gentlemen… allow me to introduce the future of this world, P-Type."
The moment he finished speaking, thunderous applause erupted across the plaza.
Seven figures emerged, stepping onto the stage.
Four men. Three women.
Each of them distinct in appearance, yet all clad in the same specialized combat armor. The most striking detail was the insignia engraved boldly on the right side of their chest plates P-Type.
Their eyes were still. Cold.
Like living weapons, waiting to be unleashed.
"Starting today, P-Type units will be deployed as part of a newly formed special task force to hunt down the escaped perpetrators. Not only that… they will also target criminals who have fled into the Outlands. Under the leadership of P-Type, we will carry out a full-scale purge, for the sake of a peaceful future for the next generation."
Dr. Nicolas concluded, his voice filled with conviction.
Applause echoed across the plaza before a female reporter quickly raised her hand, curiosity written all over her face.
"What makes P-Type different from ordinary humans?"
"For P-Type, their physical resilience far exceeds that of normal humans. They can operate in the Outlands, something that has always been a major limitation for us in the past."
Dr. Nicolas replied with steady confidence.
Another reporter pressed on immediately.
"Beyond environmental resistance, what advantages do they offer when facing the escaped suspects?"
"I'm afraid the rest of their capabilities must remain classified. After all… there's a chance those individuals are watching this very broadcast."
Dr. Nicolas concluded with a smile that revealed nothing.
"And how can we be sure they'll follow orders… I mean, the P-Type?"
Another reporter blurted out, her expression uneasy.
Dr. Nicolas parted his lips to respond, but one of the P-Type stepped forward from the line instead. His movements were steady, deliberate. He approached and extended a hand for the microphone. Dr. Nicolas handed it over without hesitation.
"We're human,"
he said, his voice low but commanding.
"Not machines. Not AI. We simply possess capabilities that surpass the rest."
He paused briefly, his gaze sweeping across the crowd.
"I can't ask you to believe that. But I can show you… that we're ready to eliminate threats and ensure the survival of the human race."
The moment his firm declaration ended, applause thundered across the plaza once more, echoing through the research complex bringing the press conference to a close, along with the fragile hope now reflected on the faces of the crowd.